


Playing Chicken

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Crack and Smut, Hannibal tortures Will with puns, Idiots in Love, M/M, Will isn't quite ready to admit his feelings, and cock puns, fair warning - like nothing but puns, rudimentary chicken keeping, so many puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-26 03:01:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19759234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Will panics when confronted with his growing attraction to Hannibal. Instead of discussing it with the good doctor, Will decides to lie and say he's been thinking about raising chickens. Hannibal's not buying it, but who is he to turn down the golden opportunity to make cock puns?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Wanders into the fandom like 3 months late, holding a Starbucks_ What did I miss?
> 
> Hi all, it's been a long hard year...and it's like only July somehow? Anyway, if you're still reading, I appreciate you, and I'm sorry I disappeared off the face of the earth. For all of you who checked to make sure I wasn't dead - thank you, y'all are the best. 
> 
> I have four stories written, so you'll see me around here on Wednesdays at least. I hope you all enjoy my brand of nonsense! 
> 
> As always Gwilbers is the best and saved you all from my mistakes.

Will had never been able to see a life with Hannibal Lecter. There was never a plausible way that he would be able to find happiness or peace while under the thumb of a persnickety fussbudget who ate people like they were pringles in a can.

Will hated suits.

Hannibal hated dogs.

Will liked solitude.

Hannibal thrived on the admiration and attention of others.

Will didn’t kill people. Well, he didn’t do it often.

Hannibal collected lives the way some men collected baseball cards.

Will was straight.

Hannibal was…well, who the hell knew what Hannibal was?

Either way, Will couldn’t deny that they were drawn together. Something inexplicable kept Will coming back, his need to peel back the layers and take a look at whatever lurked behind the person suit Hannibal showed to the world. It was this need to peel away the person suit that drove him across the ocean. It drove him to BSHCI so he could peer at Hannibal behind glass. And when he stood there, hand pressed against the bulletproof plexiglass, Will could feel that same need radiating from Hannibal.

Still, Will had always known that type of need was unsustainable.

Can’t live with him, can’t live without him—because he sent a monster to kill your family.

That’s why Will had flung them off the cliff, it had seemed the most humane option. They could be together forever, without the horror of having to live with each other.

But like most of Will’s plans, Hannibal utterly disregarded it.

What emerged and limped after Will that night had not quite been the Hannibal Will had known. It was as if Hannibal had shed his person suit in the water instead of letting it drag him down to the depths of the ocean. The monster had crested the waves that night, gasping on the shore beside Will, clawing for life. And for some reason, instead of shoving the monster back into the waves and ending this madness, Will had simply taken the creature’s hand and dragged it to safety.

Will kept waiting for Hannibal to develop a new person suit, to stitch together a piece of humanity to display to the world. But none came. Hannibal had transformed under the Cuban sun. His skin was tanned and seemed to glow as the sun set each night. The doctor had allowed his hair to grow longer and his smiles to grow wider. There was an ease to him here, no need for pomp and praise as he strolled in white linen pants along the sand, chatting with Will about new recipe ideas or people they should hunt.

The bits of Hannibal that Will had always loved had survived the fall. The meals were still elaborate and beautiful. The sharp mind and keen insight remained, ready to challenge Will over a game of scrabble or a late-night debate on the merits of Wagner’s operas. Will was slowly beginning to accept that he had been drawn to the monster all along, not the man it was pretending to be.

What was harder to accept, however, were the dreams.

They had started after Hannibal had moved them into the house in La Boca. Hannibal would swim every morning, paddling out in the dark and emerging from the waves only as the sun crested on the horizon. Will had started to think of Hannibal as bringing the sun with him every morning. He’d also started thinking about Hannibal’s skin, dripping wet and probably tasting of salt, as he strode back toward the house.

Every night, Hannibal would appear in his dreams, the new Ravenstag stalking the corners of his mind. No matter where Will ran in his subconscious—the snow-covered field where Randall Tier hunted or the sweaty docks of his Louisiana youth—Hannibal would find him. The doctor would always be dripping wet, little salt crystals forming in his bramble of silver chest hair as the sea water dried, looking like diamonds.

Will would wake, every morning, hard, gasping, and utterly confused.

He was straight, he knew he was.

So why did he make sure he was up and making coffee every morning just in time to watch Hannibal bring the sun over the waves?

“Do you know what I think about when I swim, Will?” Hannibal had said one day as he accepted a cup of coffee.

“Me shoving you off a cliff?”

Hannibal smiled. His grin had grown toothy and broad since the fall. It at once made him look more like a monster and more like a human. “In a way.”

“This is going to be a metaphor, isn’t it?”

The smile lines deepened around Hannibal’s eyes. “I’m afraid so.”

Will held up a hand, downing the rest of his coffee and filling up his mug. He took a deep breath. “OK, let’s have it.”

“I’ve thought about the small Indian mongoose.”

“Oh boy.”

“They were brought to Cuba to kill rats in the sugar cane fields.” Hannibal sipped his coffee. Will watched as a droplet of water fell down his nose. “They were small and out of their environment. The cane plantation owners thought they’d be easily tamed.”

“But they weren’t.”

“No.” Hannibal’s hair dripped down his back. The doctor never shivered, but Will felt the urge to as he watched the rivulets form. “They adapted, and instead of becoming a tame vermin exterminator, they ran wild through the country.”

“Do we get the Discovery Channel here?”

“They’re now considered one of the most dangerous invasive species in Cuba, wreaking havoc on the native mammal population, as well as the snakes. They adapted to their environment, changed the narrative of their story, and redefined their position in the world. Their becoming was quite beautiful, don't you think?”

“They’re the villains of the story.”

Hannibal grinned, setting his empty mug in the dishwasher. “Only to those who underestimated them.”

“So, the moral of your morning musings is…?”

“Our definitions of ourselves are constantly in flux, one person’s version of our story may not be the version we tell ourselves.” Hannibal sniffed slightly. “Our ability to alter our definitions, as our environment evolves, is the key to our success.”

“Got all that from an overgrown weasel, did you?”

“They’re very inspiring.”

Will watched Hannibal pad toward his bedroom, leaving wet footprints in his wake. The wet swell of Hannibal’s ass drew Will’s eye, as it did most mornings. Perhaps it was time for Will to start considering another adaptation, but he’d be damned if he’d let Hannibal dictate it with a nature lecture.

* * *

Will’s investigations into his sexuality were furtive, at first. He would only search PornHub at night, hiding under the covers with his headphones on, like a teen. Initially the clips of men masturbating and fucking did little to arouse him, he became concerned that he was, in fact, as straight as he had always assumed and the dreams were nothing but some sort of fevered panic attack.

But one night, he found a man in a thumbnail image that made his breath catch. With his bangs falling over his eyes, scruffy chin and high cheekbones, he looked alarmingly like Hannibal. When he watched the video, he could almost see Hannibal’s face. If he squinted, focused on the long bangs and the little curl at the man’s lip, it was almost remarkable how easily Will could picture Hannibal’s face.

Slipping his hand beneath his pajama bottoms, Will circled warm fingers around his stiffening cock. As he began to stroke, he kept his eyes fixed on the man so like Hannibal.

Afterwards, covered in come and heaving labored breaths, Will paused, letting his skull thump against the headboard. He wasn’t sexually attracted to men, he was sexually attracted to Hannibal Lecter.

Goddamn it. There’d be no fucking living with him if Hannibal ever found out.

Will began reading erotica, finding it easier to imagine Hannibal as he scanned the words. It seemed Hannibal was right, adaptability wasn’t going to be a problem for Will Graham.

Soon, Will had a new habit. He would wake up, fix the coffee and read a few chapters of erotica as he waited for Hannibal to emerge from the ocean and his day to begin. One day, he’d just wait for Hannibal to pad into the kitchen, take his hand, and drag him to bed—sandy feet be damned. But Will wasn’t sure he was quite ready to offer Hannibal that much power just yet.

Will was poring over a new update in a story he’d subscribed to when a droplet of water hit his shoulder, making Will jump and fling the tablet away from himself. The poor tablet hit a pillow on the sofa with a dull thud. 

When he turned, Hannibal’s glistening face was so very close to his own. Will could smell the salt on his skin and his mouth watered thinking about what it would taste like on his tongue. Hannibal’s bangs dripped again, soaking the shoulder of Will’s shirt.

The doctor smiled sweetly. “What are you reading about so intently, Will?”

It was too much. It was too much to ask Will to face a dripping wet Hannibal Lecter and think of a good lie. Will’s panicked eyes flicked to a vase of fresh flowers. “Gardening. I _uh_ …gardening in the back _uh_ …garden?”

“Ah,” Hannibal pulled away padding on those wet feet as he made his way toward the kitchen. Will had just allowed himself a breath when Hannibal paused at the doorway, and turned. “Only, I thought I saw the word _cock_. What kind of gardening involves-”

“CHICKENS!” This was stupid, there was no way that Hannibal didn’t know. But something stubborn reared in Will, he wouldn’t be forced into an embarrassing admission if he didn’t want to be. Lifting his chin, Will took a moment to steady his tone. “I was thinking about getting chickens for the back garden.”

Hannibal bared his fangs when he smiled, Will could see he was delighted by the lie. “What an interesting idea.”

* * *

Will should have known, honestly. This was the man who gutted him in a kitchen when they had their first fight and tried to have his family killed when Will taunted him. But Will had allowed himself to grow lax in Cuba. Lazy days in the sun, scars turning from pink to white as they strolled endless miles of beaches, it had all given Will a false sense of security.

So, when they went to dinner at Sol y Son that evening, Will blithely tucked into his ropa vieja without a care in the world.

Hannibal waited for Will to have his mouth full before he sipped his wine and asked sweetly, “Would you like our cocks caged or free, Will?”

Because he was prepared, Hannibal was able to deflect the flying piece of half-masticated beef from Will’s mouth with a quick flick of his fork. Because Will wasn’t prepared, he had to cough, wheeze, gulp water, and assure their waitress in horribly accented Spanish that he was in fact not dying and terribly pleased with the meal. When he finally was able to look up at Hannibal, he must have seemed murderous.

“Are you well?” That innocent light tone was back. Will wanted to ram his fork through Hannibal’s hand. “As you’ve read up on it, I thought perhaps you’d have an opinion on a coop versus a more free-range approach.”

Will glared. Fine. Hannibal wanted to nearly choke him to death on shredded beef, then he could play too. “Coops. I’d hate for a mongoose to get in the hen house.”

Hannibal smiled, taking another sip of his wine.

* * *

Will thought he was more prepared the next morning. He hadn’t touched his tablet. He refused to give Hannibal any opportunity to glance down at Will’s reading materials. He waited by the coffee, glowering as Hannibal crested on a wave and made his way to the kitchen.

Stupid sun, highlighting those tight speedos and heaving chest.

He handed Hannibal his cup of coffee and went back to glaring at the sunrise. Will had just taken a sip of coffee when Hannibal spoke, far closer to his ear than Will had realized.

“Tell me Will, do you prefer an uncut cock?” Though Hannibal was just outside his peripheral vision, he could hear the wet stretch of the man’s smile by his ear. “Would you like a napkin to mop up the coffee you spilled?”

Will grabbed the napkin from Hannibal’s damp fingertips, soaking up the coffee he’d spat across the counter. Hannibal leaned on the breakfast bar, Will absolutely did not watch water trail down the soft flesh of the doctor’s stomach.

“I’ve been reading about removing a rooster’s spurs,” Hannibal mused into his mug. “I have seen arguments for it in domestic breeds, but it seems rather cruel to cut a cock, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think something that could easily end up on a dinner plate should complain too much.” Will refilled his coffee.

“Hmmm, still, removing its means of defense, keeping it from its true ferocity—it doesn’t seem right, does it Will?”

“How about a gag? Could we look into gags?”

* * *

Will knew the coop was coming. Hannibal was having far too much fun to miss the opportunity to continue his daily word play. So, Will didn’t bat an eye when Mr. Pérez showed up at 8 one morning with a truck full of wood and chicken wire. Will even helped with construction—it was better than sitting inside and waiting for Hannibal to ask another cock-related question.

After the coop was built, Will waited. Soon enough a van arrived at the house and he could hear the telltale clucks. Honestly, this whole thing had probably gone too far. He should just admit to Hannibal that he was perhaps ready to discuss non-chicken cocks and perhaps how, if Hannibal would stop being an utter shit for three seconds, Will might like a kiss.

Now, they had at least one chicken, Will was still unkissed, and Hannibal’s abilities to pluck cock puns from thin air had become truly awe-inspiring. With the addition of actual roosters, Will was a little afraid of how verbose Hannibal would become.

Oh hell, at least they’d have fresh eggs.

“Will? Would you like to meet our newest family members?”

With a sigh, Will walked toward the large fenced-in coop. Might as well get this over with. Hannibal stood in well-tailored linen pants, spreading chicken feed around the yard for a small flock of birds. He looked like some sort of gentleman farmer, his smile just visible under the brim of his Panama hat.

“Will, these are Brahma chickens,” Hannibal threw another handful of feed to the hens. “They’re excellent layers and renowned for their meat. I feel they’ll be a superlative addition to our household, don’t you?”

Will had to admit, they were rather pretty. Larger than the chickens he remembered a neighbor keeping the summer he and his dad lived in Georgia, Will was impressed by their voluminous downy white feathers, speckled with black. Their legs looked meaty and strong—they strutted about the yard in a great ruffle. He stooped to touch one when he noticed movement from inside the coop.

“Ah, I see the gentlemen of the group has decided to greet you.”

The thing that appeared from the coop was definitely not a chicken, Will knew that in his soul. It was massive—well over two feet and oddly lanky. It looked like a Muppet as it rose to full height, shaking its grand plumage. It walked toward Will and the empath couldn’t get over how _wrong_ the thing looked—like a toddler in a costume. Will recoiled a step or two.

“JESUS!”

Hannibal, who was old hand at befriending monsters and using them to his purposes, strode over to the abomination of feathers and stroked at it’s large black and white neck. The creature leaned into the touch before flapping it’s black-tipped wings and regarding Will with a tilted gaze.

“Will, this is Freud,” Hannibal grinned gesturing to the feathered beast. When Will blinked in silent horror at the thing again, Hannibal leaned down to the bird, fingers gliding over its plumage. “Freud, this is Will. I’m sure you two will get along. Will’s been very interested in cocks lately.”

Will’s jaw tightened. The possibility of a long life with Hannibal was becoming worrying to him. “Unless you’re frying it, I don’t care.”

Marching into the house, Will steadfastly ignored Hannibal as he called after him.

“Will, it’s perfectly natural to be frightened of a big cock, but I’m sure you’ll love it in time!”

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will decides to play along, then changes the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the middle of two massive projects for work and for some reason people just won't leave me alone - so my life has been a choice between writing and answering people. So I've been terrible and have answered no one. Please know I thrive and re-read your comments when I'm feeling low, and I'll try to answer people if I can get some free time this weekend. I really do appreciate you all for reading, kudos-ing, commenting, and bookmarking. Thank y'all so much.

Irritatingly, the chickens and the coop had been a wonderful idea. The chickens turned out to be excellent layers—producing enough to keep Hannibal quite busy in the kitchen. Will had to admit that poached eggs, omelets, frittatas, flans, and custards were all welcome additions to his daily meals. He also begrudgingly acknowledged that the flock was a rather endearing group.

They would never be dogs, Will knew that of course, but chickens were oddly affectionate creatures. Will had named the flock—since Hannibal only seemed to care about his Freudian cock joke. Alana, Margot, Freddie, and Bedelia were a funny little group that clucked excitedly whenever they spotted Will in the backyard. If he or Hannibal were puttering around the garden, they’d follow in a little line, ruffling their feathers for attention and gently pecking at whatever held their human’s interest.

Even Freud was beginning to ingratiate himself. Once Will got over the size of the thing, he noticed the rooster was a bit of a comedian. Freud's favorite activity seemed to be posturing to Hannibal, who must have appeared to be the other dominate male in the flock. Whenever the doctor would head to the coop, Freud would emerge, puffing his chest and holding out his feathers in threat.

Hannibal would sigh, side stepping the giant rooster and his flapping wings as he made his way to the coop. Once Freud realized Hannibal had no interest in fighting him for his ladies, he would warm to the doctor’s presence, often “helping” to gather eggs by pecking at Hannibal’s hands and chasing the chickens from their nests to give Hannibal better access.

Will would sit at the far end of the coop, hand feeding his girls and stroking their lovely plumage while he watched Hannibal and Freud struggle to collect eggs.

Today, it seemed, Freud was in no mood to be ignored. With a squawk and a whirlwind of feathers, the rooster leaped into the air and landed ungracefully on Hannibal’s bent back. Will watched in glee as the beast dug its talons into Hannibal’s backside. He hoped Freud scratched up that Prada belt Hannibal was so fond of.

Hannibal turned, swiveling his stooped form and the rooster to face the laughing empath. “Will, please get your cock off me.”

Will reddened, but refused the bait. Instead he ignored the doctor and his feathery friend, petting Bedelia as she clucked happily.

* * *

Four months.

Will had hoped Hannibal would run out of cock puns by now, but it seemed that the doctor had an infinite supply.

_Will, please get your cock off the counter._

_What a fat cock you have, Will. Are you overfeeding it?_

_Your cock certainly likes attention._

_Will, your cock is dripping on my clean floor._

Worryingly, Hannibal had started to branch out to chickens puns. He had warned Will to be careful when petting Alana, the smallest hen, lest he choke the chicken. Will had nearly inhaled a feather that day.

Enough was enough.

Will decided, like most things involving Hannibal Lecter—there was no beating him. That left joining him as the only option.

So, Will went shopping.

When he found the perfect item, he ordered it and waited anxiously for the delivery truck to arrive. Hannibal signed for the package and raised his brows as a huge crate was dollied off the truck.

“He’ll want that in the garden,” Will said to the delivery man before ducking Hannibal’s questioning gaze and walking inside. Will watched from the kitchen window as Hannibal tipped the driver, who left the crate in the middle of the garden.

Moving to the door to get a better view of Hannibal prying open the crate, Will grinned when the doctor tilted his head in confusion as he dragged the giant object from the box. The sculpture was a jumble of engine parts assembled to look like a rooster, coated to look like wrought iron and about seven inches taller than Hannibal. As it hit the light—it gleamed.

“Will,” Hannibal turned to look at the empath with a small smile. “Did you buy me a present?”

Will raised a brow. “Thought you might appreciate a nice hard cock.”

“I do.” Hannibal smiled wide, baring his fangs to the sun. He began to laugh as he squinted up at the gleaming metal rooster.

* * *

Once Will started to play the game, the dynamic changed. He began to look forward to the challenge of it. Hannibal’s goal seemed to be to provoke a blush, Will’s goal became to wring a laugh from that impassive face. Hannibal wanted to see Will’s tolerance, Will wished for Hannibal’s delight.

Will settled in the coop feeding seeds and blueberries to the girls as he watched Hannibal and Freud collect eggs for the day. Hannibal was absent mindedly petting the humongous bird with his right hand so he could collect eggs with his left hand unmolested.

“Your cock will not leave me alone, Will.” Hannibal cast an amused glance toward the empath.

“Why should it?” Called Will, tossing a blueberry into his mouth. “You stroke it like a pro.”

When Hannibal chuckled, Will felt his chest flush warm.

* * *

The rooster sculpture found a place of honor in the center of the garden. Hannibal had specially ordered psychotria elata to plant in a bed around it. Will had wondered why Hannibal needed a special flower…until he saw the bloom.

“They look like lips,” Will observed, letting his fingers run along the glossy red petals that pouted open like a painted mouth waiting for a kiss.

“Prostitute Lips is a common nickname for the flowers.”

“How…graphic.”

Hannibal stood, brushing soil from his slacks. “I thought a nice hard cock could use willing lips.”

Will hummed in agreement. “Suppose I should just be grateful you didn’t plant pussy willows around the damn thing.”

Hannibal smiled. “I had thought to plant sweet Williams, but I was unsure how they’d fair around such an imposing cock.”

“Best to be careful with sweet Williams,” Will raised a hand to brush dirt that wasn’t there from the corner of Hannibal’s mouth. “They’re quite particular about the cocks they flourish under.”

“Are they?” Hannibal leaned into Will’s hand, dragging his gray stubble along the pads of Will’s fingers. “And what conditions do they crave?”

The innuendo was right on the tip of his tongue, ready to volley back to Hannibal, but something in the pit of his stomach soured before he could open his mouth. Will looked at this man, this beautiful dangerous man who worked to convince Will he was worthy of everyday finery. This man who had coaxed all the bits of Will usually kept hidden into the light, allowing them to grow and thrive. This man who had upended Will's world, only for the empath to realize he enjoyed the view better at this angle. Will studied the terrifying force in front of him—and found he couldn’t make a joke of his feelings anymore.

Will dropped his hand. He tried to retreat to the house, but his elbow was grabbed.

“Will?”

“Cock, OK? COCK COCK COCK-” Will wrenched his arm from Hannibal’s grasp. “Sucking it, stroking it, eating it, shoving it up my ass—whatever. Christ, you win.”

“You seemed to be enjoying the game.” Hannibal stepped closer, but Will backed away.

“This isn’t a game, I- my feelings aren’t-” Will ran a hand over his mouth. He wished he still had glasses to push up his nose.

“What are your feelings?”

“A punchline, apparently.”

“No, never that,” Hannibal’s voice was low he dipped his head trying to catch Will’s gaze, allowing his longer hair to tumble in front of his eyes in a grey cascade.

“Are you kidding me?” Will snarled. “You’ve done nothing but throw this in my fucking face since-”

“I thought perhaps making light of the situation would make it less dire for you. If we could laugh together, perhaps your repulsion around the idea would-”

“I’m not repulsed.”

“Then why bother hiding behind a flimsy excuse we both knew to be a lie?”

Will shook his head. “I knew who I was. I knew what I wanted, what I liked doing. Hell, I had a pretty good idea of what my life was going to look like.”

“Until you did not.”

“Until a shitty psychiatrist fucked with my mind and now…” Will smiled. “Everything changed, and it was too much and too fast... and I wasn’t ready.”

“And now?”

“I’ve been ready, I’ve been waiting for you to get tired of cock puns and maybe make a goddamn move.” Will allowed Hannibal’s fingers to circle his wrist and tug him close. “But you seemed happy just making fun of-”

“I’ll never utter another cock pun the rest of my life,” Hannibal murmured, bending to run his nose along the scar traversing Will’s cheek. He placed a soft kiss on it before meeting Will’s eyes. “I’ll never make any pun again. I’ll only speak in earnest declarations like Jack Crawford if that makes you happy.”

“You make me happy,” Will could feel his heart in his throat as he raised up and pecked Hannibal on the lips. It wasn’t nearly as frightening as Will had imagined. It was kind of fun, actually. “Promise me you’ll knock off the cock puns and I’ll give you something far more interesting to do with your time.”

Hannibal smiled, large and toothy. “How can I say no?”

Will tipped his chin up and offered himself for a proper kiss. Hannibal didn’t disappoint, gently sucking at Will’s lower lip before swiping wetly at the seam of Will’s mouth. When he opened to Hannibal, the embrace was all consuming, Will felt his skin prickle with excitement as Hannibal’s arms banded around his waist.

They broke apart. Will leaned up and bit at Hannibal’s cupid’s bow, a playful, claiming nip. Hannibal snarled slightly before his smile returned. “I told you a mongoose could adapt beautifully to a new environment.”

Will shoved at Hannibal’s chest. “Do you want to go to the zoo or have sex, Hannibal?”

“Why limit ourselves?” Hannibal grinned, bending down to haul Will into the bridal carry and drag him into the house.

* * *

PornHub and online erotica, as it turned out, didn’t really prepare one for the realities of sex. Yes, Hannibal had swooped Will off his feet and carried him up the stairs to his bedroom. Yes, he had been laid on the bed with all the tenderness in the world. Will would even go so far as to say that, when groping through Hannibal’s pants, what strained at the fine linen fabric could be classified as a _throbbing member_.

But that’s where the similarities seemed to end. Taking clothes off wasn’t nearly as sexy as he’d hoped. Will tried to rip off his shirt but found he couldn’t. Instead, he got stuck yanking it over his head. Hannibal had helped Will disentangle himself—after he finished getting undressed and folding his clothes.

The bed was another issue. Hannibal had bought a king bed for his room. In theory, it would give both men plenty of room to stretch out and explore each other. In practice, it meant two naked men sat on opposite sides of a very wide mattress awkwardly staring at each other. Will finally decided to move, shimmying across the memory foam toward Hannibal, who seemed determined not to push Will into anything he didn’t want to do.

They met in the middle and the awkwardness seemed to slip away from them when Hannibal finally kissed him again. Will had quickly grown quite fond of kissing Hannibal, so when the doctor moved to lay Will back on the mattress, the empath hummed his approval into Hannibal’s mouth. They kissed languidly, naked bodies pressing warmth into their skin as they explored each other’s mouths.

While Will was content to run his hands through Hannibal’s greying locks, pulling the doctor into deeper kisses, Hannibal it seemed, had other plans. His hands were everywhere at once. Will could feel them skimming the planes of his chest, pressing between his back and the mattress, and stroking low until they teased at the nest of pubic hair at the base of Will’s cock.

By the time Hannibal wrapped his fingers properly around Will’s cock, the empath was already moaning, soft and needy, into Hannibal’s mouth. It had been ages since anyone had touched him with the intent to bring him pleasure. But this wasn’t like the sweet soft hands of Molly or the perfunctory touches of Margot—Hannibal was consuming him. Every inch of his skin felt alight as Hannibal moved with soft lips and light fingers over Will’s body. It was overwhelming and wonderful and Will wasn’t sure whether to stop Hannibal’s devouring or beg for it to continue indefinitely.

He was perilously close to the precipice when he felt breath along the shaft of his cock. Every nerve in Will’s body tensed, coiling and preparing for release. The only coherent thought in the empath’s head was _too soon_. This wasn’t what he had planned, what he had wanted when he thought of bedding Hannibal.

Squirming and shoving at Hannibal’s shoulder, Will shuddered. “D-Don’t!”

Hannibal froze, his eyes widening just a fraction. Something shuttered in those maroon irises and soon the doctor was pulling away. “I didn’t mean to push you, Will. I’ll-”

“No!” Will grabbed at Hannibal, his desperation to bring the man closer unbalanced them both. Will wheezed as Hannibal fell across his stomach with a grunt. When the doctor shifted, staring at Will curiously, the empath could feel his face heat. “I’m not having second thoughts. I just…fuck…look it’s been a while.”

Hannibal raised an eyebrow at that, Will recognized it as the stuffy cannibal version of _continue…_

Taking a deep breath, Will fought the urge to hide from Hannibal’s gaze. “I just…It’s a lot. YOU are a lot, you’re always a lot, I know. I don’t know what I was expecting. It’s not as if you-”

“Will.”

“If you touch me like that again, I’m going to come, OK?”

Hannibal blinked. “You are aware of what the object of sexual contact is, aren’t you Will?”

“Fuck you-” Will pushed at Hannibal, but this time the doctor wouldn’t be moved. He pressed on Will’s torso with his own, letting Will struggle until he settled. Apparently, they were going to talk about this. “I want to come with you inside me. I had this…In my mind…”

“In my mind, the first time we made love was in my office,” Hannibal’s mouth curved slightly, his eyes going soft. Will watched as the doctor navigated his memory palace to a room that probably had _Banging Will Fantasies_ written on the door in gold calligraphy. “I would back you up against the ladder and you’d be unable to resist me.”

Will huffed, but smiled softly. It had been a near thing resisting Hannibal several times.

“We would kiss,” Hannibal paused, dipping down to do just that. He settled back across Will’s chest, no longer pinning him to the bed, merely resting. “Then I would use my tie to secure your wrists to the rung above your head, pull down your hideous trousers and take you in my mouth until you were begging for release.”

Will’s mouth fell open, it was suddenly very warm underneath Hannibal.

The doctor tilted his head, eyes clearing and focusing on the Will again. “It was my ideal fantasy. I had it planned down to which of your ugly shirts you’d wear.”

Will grinned, raising an eyebrow.

“That awful salmon shirt,” Hannibal supplied. “You wore it when you slept in Abigail’s hospital room. You were so rumpled on the sofa, so utterly in need of looking after.”

Hannibal’s mouth curled at the edge. “When you wore it again to resume your therapy, I thought you had somehow used your empathy to discern my fondness for it.”

“I wanted to wear a blue one actually,” Will brought a hand up to stroke at Hannibal’s back, his fingers tracing the grooves of the Verger brand. “But I burned it when I was ironing it.”

Hannibal’s shoulders shook as he laughed quietly.

Will scratched lightly at the doctor’s brand, feeling a little thrill when Hannibal unconsciously arched into his nails. “Why did you tell me that?”

Shifting the doctor resettled, one arm tucked beneath Will’s waist, the other anchored at by Will’s head. “I dreamed of that moment. I amended it when you cut your hair, changed it again when I saw you at the Uffizi. When I was in prison, I decided you would make excellent use of the holes in the plexiglass of my cell… Over six years, I think I can tell you with great surety that I’ve perfected my Will Graham fantasy. And I would not trade the reality of you here with me for any of the flights of fancy my mind can conjure.”

“So, me coming like a teenager the second you suck my dick is the ultimate fantasy?”

Hannibal kissed Will insistently. He licked into Will’s mouth, lapping at Will’s fangs and nipping at his lips. Will groaned arching into Hannibal’s arms. When Hannibal pulled back, Will whined, leaning up to catch the doctor’s lips. “Do you want to know a fascinating thing about the human body, Will?”

“Wh- _huh_?” Will squinted trying to understand what Hannibal had said.

The doctor smiled, his sharp fangs glinting so close to Will. “It can have more than one orgasm in a night.”

Before the words could register, Hannibal was gone, moving quickly down Will’s body. He settled between Will’s splayed legs, resting over Will’s right thigh. He began to stroke along Will’s stomach, fingers trailing over the light sprinkling of hair that led to his groin. Circling the base of Will’s cock, Hannibal brushed gently along Will’s thighs before lightly dragging his nails back up.

“Christ.” Will couldn't stop his shaking. His cock was twitching, he could feel his balls drawing tight.

“You’re so close, aren’t you darling?” Hannibal let one finger trail up the length of Will’s cock, pressing in slightly when he reached the frenulum. Will made a choking noise as his body arched into the touch. Hannibal moved his hand and suddenly Will was achingly alone. He rolled his hips, panting and seeking Hannibal’s hands again. “How old are you, Will?”

“Wh-” It was all he could manage.

Hannibal’s finger was back, slowly drawing patterns along the dip in Will’s hip, feather light touches along his balls and below. “I believe it’s 47, isn’t it?”

Will twitched, groaning when Hannibal’s finger collected a bead of clear fluid at the tip of his cock. Hannibal brought his finger to his lips, his eyes fluttering shut as he tasted, considered. “Forty-seven, in fairly good health, I think it’s reasonable to assume that you can reach completion at least five times.”

A guttural noise filled the room, Will was shocked when he realized it was coming from him. Hannibal laid his hand on Will’s stomach, petting soothing circles. Will could feel the damp skin on the tip of Hannibal’s index finger.

“Not all at once darling, we’re not ready for that…yet.” Hannibal’s hand went from soothing to clawed as he dragged it back down Will’s torso. “I meant that if we spent the rest of the day and night in this bed, accounting for bathroom breaks, cuddling, a light supper, and of course our refractory periods—I think five orgasms is a reasonable goal.”

Will tried to say something but he managed just another moan. He seemed to be shivering uncontrollably. This was how Hannibal would finally kill him. And the worst part was, Will was pretty sure he’d die grateful.

Hannibal drummed his fingers on Will’s hip, resting his head on his free hand—pondering. “First, I think you should spill down my throat. Second, with your legs wrapped around me as I take you. Third…we’ll probably want a bath at some point, let’s say mutual masturbation in the shower, shall we? Fourth, inside me as you bend me over the bed, I think. And fifth…”

Hannibal’s lips pursed, dark and full as he considered. After a moment, Hannibal made a dismissive face and waved his hand in the air. “No need to plan everything, let’s see where the evening takes us.”

The doctor nodded to himself, the matter apparently settled. Will had just enough time to register Hannibal’s plans before he watched the doctor lean forward and lick a long stripe up his cock. Will made a small little noise, his throat tight as he watched Hannibal lap at the head of his cock, red eyes fixed on Will’s. A hand clamped around Will’s, which was digging into the sheet beside him. Hannibal gently moved Will’s hand, resting it in the doctor’s grey hair. Instinctively, Will’s fingers gripped and Hannibal hummed in pleasure against the tip of Will’s cock.

“ _Fuck_.”

Will watched as Hannibal opened his lips and enveloped his cock. The sensation was blinding—warm, wet heat descending around him. He moaned as he felt Hannibal’s tongue flick, rolling gently as he pulled off of Will’s cock with an audible pop.

“Will?” The empath shook his head, he hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes. He focused on Hannibal, who was licking softly at the tip of Will’s cock, a firm hand squeezing the base. “Let go for me, Will.”

Will managed a shaky nod, head falling back as Hannibal began pressing sucking kisses along Will’s shaft. Fine tremors took over Will’s body, he could feel himself coiling tight again. Hannibal swallowed Will’s cock down, sucking hard. Will toes curled, his fingers yanked at Hannibal’s hair when he felt himself hit the back of the doctor’s throat. Hannibal hummed again, pulling back just enough to softly graze his teeth along Will’s shaft.

He shattered with a broken noise, coming hard. Will could feel Hannibal swallowing around him, that silver tongue undulating against him as he pulsed. The moment stretched until his brain could no longer conceive of time, it felt as if he’d always been here—utterly lost to Hannibal’s mouth.

When Will could finally draw breath again, he made a small noise of complaint, yanking at Hannibal’s hair. It had been ages since he’d kissed the doctor, at least minutes. Hannibal came to him with a smile, licking his lips as he crawled toward Will.

Hannibal settled next to him, easily allowing himself to be pulled into a kiss. Will licked at Hannibal, tasting come and salt and sweat. It was a heady combination; one he’d like to experience for the rest of his life.

They broke apart reluctantly, still clinging to each other, nuzzling close as they panted.

“Four more of those, huh?”

“I always keep my promises. Unless…” Hannibal ran his nose along the scar on Will’s cheek, then stretched up to kiss the scar on his forehead. “Unless you’d like to try for five instead of four?”

Will huffed a quiet laugh. His limbs felt leaden, every inch of his body was orgasm drunk and lazy. “Five? I’m not sure two is possible.”

Hannibal sniffed, burying his nose behind Will’s ear where sweat had collected in his curls. “We have plenty of time to reach our goal.”

“How much time?” Will tilted his head, encouraging Hannibal to plant nipping kisses along his neck.

“Til the cock crows.”

Will would have groaned if he hadn’t been half asleep.

* * *

When Freud crowed at dawn, Will moaned lightly, eyes fluttering open. He squinted at the blue walls of Hannibal’s room, rolling until he landed against the solid warm wall of the doctor’s flesh. They had been in the bed for hours, Hannibal making good on his other four promises. Will wondered if he’d be able to walk, but wasn’t too worried about the idea—it would be some time before he wanted to leave the bed.

“Good morning, Will.”

“Aren’t you going for your swim?”

Hannibal sat up, leaning over Will and caging him with his arms. Bending down, Hannibal rubbed his stubble into the tender flesh of Will’s neck until the empath hissed, arching into the sensation.

“I find,” Hannibal bit at the join in Will’s shoulder. “I have absolutely no motivation to leave this bed.”

“Hmmmm,” Will palmed Hannibal’s ass, tugging at him until the doctor was slotted between Will’s open thighs. “Guess I’ll have to make sure you get a good workout this morning.”

Hannibal leaned in to kiss Will again when Freud bellowed once more, making both men flinch in the embrace. Hannibal opened his mouth, but paused, snapping his lips closed.

Will brought a hand up to Hannibal’s face. “I’ll make you a deal. Promise me one orgasm for every cock pun and I’ll forget your little declaration yesterday.”

“Agreed.” Hannibal took Will’s mouth in a languid kiss that soured only slightly when Freud crowed again. Pulling back, Hannibal smiled. “I dreamed for years of your cock waking me in the morning, but it was never this exasperating in my fantasies.”

Will laughed, yanking Hannibal back into a kiss.

* * *

Sol y Son was crowded, a group of Canadian tourists, if Will was to guess. He was tapping at his café con leche, watching as Hannibal dipped his tostada. The tourists were loud, and Will could see Hannibal’s lip starting to curl.

“Will we be gone all day today?”

Hannibal’s lip smoothed. “At least until the afternoon, why?”

Will sipped his coffee. “It’s nothing…just…my cock’s going to miss you.”

The conversation at the table next to them dipped in volume significantly. Hannibal smiled. “Do you think so?”

“Well, you spoil it so,” Will raised his voice just a bit. “Always kissing and stroking it. He’s practically bursting every time you’re near.”

A clatter made Will turn. A very red-faced woman had dropped her mug, shattering it on the tile. Will smiled at her. “Are you OK, ma’am?”

“I uh-uh-”

Will blinked his eyes innocently at the woman then covered his mouth in horror. “Oh god, did you hear me? Ma’am, I was talking about our rooster!”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Will held it up to the woman’s face, showing her a picture of Freud preening for the camera next to Hannibal. “He’s our prize cock.”

“One of them,” Hannibal murmured as he sipped his coffee.

“Oh, _oh_ I feel so silly!” The woman turned puce as Will smiled at her.

“No worries. I should be more careful with how loudly I speak at restaurants.”

The woman nodded and turned back to her table, the conversation got a bit quieter and Will smirked when Hannibal set his tostada on the table to link hands with him.

“Will,” Hannibal asked sweetly, thumb running along the pulse in Will’s wrist. “Were we discussing Freud?”

Will crossed his legs, running a foot along Hannibal’s inner thigh before letting it settle over his knee. He raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t.”

Hannibal pulled his hand from Will’s, waving it at the waitress. “¡La cuenta, por favor!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next up:**  
>  A Spacedogs birthday fic that is *looks at the calendar* SEVEN MONTHS LATE. Seems on brand for me, TBH.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Next Week:**  
>  Less cock puns, more cock...
> 
> Also, if you'd like to know how big a Brahma rooster is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vX4Jh-44-Nk


End file.
